Stir Crazy
by GiorgiaKerr
Summary: Danny/Martin. Danny, Martin and a thirty-six hour shift. My first WAT fic. Enjoy!


**Spoilers:** Whatever. Officially the first non-_Bones_ fic I've ever written, and most definitely the first slash I've ever written. So, for that, I hope you enjoy it!

**Disclaimer: **Actually, I don't watch WAT all that much. The timing on TV here is so annoyingly sporadic that I can't keep track.

**Author's Note:** Well. You know, it never occurred to me while I was watching this show that Danny and Martin could (or do) have a 'thing'. It quite honestly never occurred to me. Then I stumbled upon a Danny/Martin fanfic. I laughed at the absurdity for about ten minutes before actually deciding to read it. And I read it, and I was absolutely, one hundred percent infatuated with the whole thing. And now, I can't watch the show without the niggling hope that something will happen. Vicious circle, I tell you.

This was written for an FCG Challenge. Here are the parameters:

1. Must include the phrase: "Do I have to fall asleep..."  
2. Must be a minimum of 1000 words.  
3. Must have a maximum rating of PG 13  
4. Must include a fandom you don't normally write for.  
5. Must either be romantic, angst, or humor, but could also be some combination of the three.

* * *

Danny ran his hands through his hair and over his face. Thirty-six hours was too long a day for anyone, let alone in an office. He was sure that when he stood up, the chair would retain a nice print of his ass.

He smiled faintly at the thought of Sam's face when she saw the imprint. Her chair was just so much more comfortable than his. Martin's tired voice infiltrated his daydream.

"What's so funny?" Martin asked, bemused, wondering what could possibly be entertaining while doing paperwork and why he wasn't being let in on it. Danny shook his head, wondering fleetingly whether Martin would actually care that he was thinking of Sam. He knew the relationship was long over, and he didn't think this would be enough to get Martin to do that thing where he diverted his eyes and pretended to be absorbed in work.

But he didn't want to risk it.

Martin had been his only company for at least twenty of those thirty-six hours; he'd probably go insane if that changed now. And truth be told, he was quite fond of being able to _see_ those eyes.

"I think I'm going stir crazy," Danny answered finally. Martin smirked in consensus.

"Yeah, I feel you," he replied wryly, shooting a hateful look at the computer screen in front of him. Danny couldn't help but react to that particular term of agreement.

He jumped up, almost knocking over a stack of precariously placed files in the process. "Coffee?" he asked smoothly, hoping Martin would just put his clumsiness down to sleep deprivation.

Martin smiled at him, nodding. "Thirty-six is a bitch of a shift to be stuck with." He shook his head as if to emphasize his point. Danny turned to him and grinned.

"Yeah, well, at least there's two of us," he pointed out, his voice nonchalant as his stomach felt almost giddy. Martin laughed genially.

"Mm, but I'd rather be in bed," Martin pointed out with a yawn. Danny nodded once then turned to hide his reddening face. He wondered how many times a day Martin managed to inadvertently tease him. "Then again, if I was, I'd probably be asking myself, 'Do I have to fall asleep?'"

That didn't help. Danny cleared his throat and laughed genially.

As he left the room, he mentally smacked himself for being so pathetic. This weird infatuation had been so repressed and so terrifying at first, that Danny had seriously considered a tumbler of whiskey.

After that, so afraid of self-destruction, he forced the feelings he had for Martin into his conscious mind. The only problem was: now he couldn't get them _out_.

He concentrated feebly on emptying then refilling the coffee filter for the fourth time that shift. Each time he'd volunteered; conveniently coinciding with each time he caught himself staring at Martin for too long. Though his definition of 'too long' tended to change dramatically depending on exactly what Martin was doing at the time.

Danny shook his head as he dropped the scoop he was holding, flowering the bench with coffee. He rolled his eyes and decided to ignore it until later as he began to hum the first song that came into his mind. It would keep his mind of less thought-provoking images. He didn't notice when Martin walked in.

At least, not until Martin's shoulder brushed his. Danny looked up, a little stunned, and saw a grinning face. He smiled back, confused.

"I thought you might need this," Martin said amusedly, indicating a cloth he held in his right hand. Danny smiled in gratitude and took to the bench with unnecessary amounts of concentration. Martin leaned casually against the bench, forcing Danny to work around him.

"Somethin' eating you?" Martin asked unceremoniously. Danny looked at him, put on his best I-am-a-man-I-have-no-emotions face and shrugged.

"Paperwork and crappy coffee," he joked. Martin seemed to buy it, though the still looked a little dubious.

"Well, not that I don't appreciate your coffee making skills," Martin began wryly, gesturing towards the spilt coffee, "but we have about four lunch breaks to make up for. And I believe this Hell-shift is officially over in two." Martin smirked, and at such a close capacity that Danny had to consciously stop himself from grabbing Martin and kissing him right there.

Instead, he tossed the now-black rag into the sink. "Beer or coffee?" he asked casually. Martin shrugged, throwing his already-retrieved coat over his shoulder.

"It's nine on a Tuesday night," he said as if the answer were obvious. Danny thought about this for a second, until Martin dumped his own coat on his shoulder. He flicked his head in a 'manly' gesture of gratitude. He often wondered how much he was overdoing the macho thing. Martin grinned back, his blue eyes glinting as they stepped into the elevator.

Danny frowned slightly. The line between Danny's old feelings for Martin and whatever the hell these newer ones were was completely blurred. He'd wondered about Martin's feeling towards him more times than he really cared to think about, but had only ever let himself indulge in the possibility once.

It wouldn't be too far a stretch; Martin was always in denial about everything. It was constant. Just about anything was a possibility. Except, perhaps, this.

Whatever this was. It wasn't like _Danny_ knew. He just felt the feelings, he didn't create them. He also tried to dwell on them as little as possible. It was against bureau policy to have relationships with the people you worked with; Danny knew that. But his problem went slightly beyond policy.

He sucked in a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. It didn't work. All he could smell was the man standing beside him. Danny semiconsciously listed every scent. At the last one, he cleared his throat. Martin raised an eyebrow.

"Y'okay?" he asked again. This time he seemed a little more concerned. Danny smiled and nodded. Martin, again, didn't look convinced as Danny continued to frown. "Beer it is."

* * *

The bar was as good as closed. There were three people in the place, not including the two FBI agents seated on two of the bar stools. The bartender looked at them, nodded and cocked half his mouth in a smirk. The two men raised simultaneous eyebrows. The bartender laughed at them, and they turned to each other, confused. Martin shrugged and turned back around to grasp his soda.

For the time in the office, he'd consciously forgotten about Danny's alcohol issues. He'd kicked himself mentally when Danny stiffened slightly as they walked into the bar. He'd apologized, offering to leave. Danny just laughed at him and refused. Martin couldn't figure out why Danny seemed amused by his concern. He figured he'd probably looked like he'd just realized that his foot was missing.

Martin, in a very un-Martin way had almost panicked until Danny's hand landed on his shoulder. "Martin. I'm fine," he'd said solidly. Martin stared at him for as few seconds as if to see whether he was telling the truth. He'd obviously decided he had been, though Martin still refused to drink anything but soda.

"How long's this place been here?" Danny asked casually. The conversation had strayed off somewhere between paperwork and paperwork. Martin shrugged.

"Years. I came here a lot before joining Missing Persons. No lawyers, judges, agents; but no junkies, hookers or pimps," Martin explained abstractly. Danny nodded his head in understanding.

"No chance of running into your father," Danny deciphered. Martin laughed silently.

"Or his friends," he said with bitter humor. Neither man was sure whether Martin was referring to the lawmen, or the criminals.

Both turned silently back to their drinks until Danny spoke, an amused tone lightening his voice. "Which sock do you put on first?" he asked. Martin looked at him and raised his eyebrow.

"Sock?" he asked incredulously.

"Mm," Danny affirmed into his drink. He swallowed. "This profiler I was talking to the other day started talking about socks and the fact that people habitually put one sock on before the other."

Martin laughed. It seemed an absurd thing to be asking, especially here, now. He shrugged. "I don't know; which sock do you put on first?" Martin retorted. He wasn't sure where this was going. Or why.

"Right," Danny answered simply. Martin briefly wondered why Danny had gotten into a conversation about socks with a criminal profiler. Then again, profilers had the reputation of being not-quite-normal. Martin thought about it for a few more seconds, now seriously, stupidly, considering the answer. He finally shrugged.

"Either," he said hopelessly. He suddenly grinned at Danny. "I'm bi-socksual."

Danny, despite his best efforts, blushed as he laughed. He wondered whether Martin was aware of exactly it was he was implying. Danny turned back to his drink, tearing his eyes away from Martin's.

When Martin didn't do the same, Danny hazarded a look up. Martin was still grinning at him, his blue eyes magnetic. Before Danny could look away again, Martin's hand was suddenly resting on his thigh. Danny kept his face perfectly still, afraid of showing just what he was feeling. It was amazing how often FBI training came in handy.

But Martin noticed as Danny's breathing hitched slightly, then continued, faster than normal. Danny's resolve, however, crumbled as Martin leaned forward and kissed him. Danny's mouth opened in shock, and Martin took full advantage. Danny's eyes closed.

What the hell was happening?

The grip on his leg tightened, and Danny was suddenly very aware of what was happening.

And very glad that it was.

* * *

The sock joke actually came from a conversation with my brother and my dad. It was insanely funny at the time, and I just thought it was so good. Though, slightly different a context to here…

Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed it, and reviews are loved!


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